It's YOUR Party!
by rhinosgirl
Summary: Young Timothy Gibbs can't understand why Ducky doesn't want to attend his own party. Slightly revised due to concrit reviews, which are always appreciated!


**A/N: Written for the RLT Fall 2014 Collaboration. Tim as Gibbs' son. Fandom: NCIS**

**Claim: Ducky **

Doctor Donald Mallard, Medical Examiner, paused on the front doorstep of the house he was visiting. An affectionate smile flitted across his face as he briefly listened to the cacophony emanating from inside before he rang the doorbell.

"Timmy! Can you answer the door, please." Leroy Jethro Gibbs poked his head out the kitchen door to address his four- year-old son.

The youngster eagerly ran to the door, and hauled it open. "Ducky!" he squealed excitedly, jumping up and down in the doorway. "I'm riding Tony, come see! Come see!"

That explains the barnyard noises, Ducky thought amusedly. "Hello, wee 'un!" He greeted the boy cheerfully as he mussed the sandy hair of his young charge.

"Eeek!" Timmy yelped as something freezing pressed against his cheek.

Ducky chuckled and moved his hand away. "Sorry, Timmy. Do you want to carry that bag in for me? We'll take this food to your Daddy and then we can go and find your horsey," he grinned.

"Sure," Tim agreed. The bag was carefully transferred into his little hands, and then Ducky followed Timmy, allowing himself to be led into the kitchen. Once there, they deposited a steaming hot dish of apple and rhubarb crumble onto the bench, and a large container of vanilla ice-cream into the freezer. Gibbs rose from turning the roast vegetables in the oven, and Abby Sciuto looked up from tossing the coleslaw. They quickly exchanged greetings with their friend and colleague before Ducky was unceremoniously pulled into the living room, where he thoroughly enjoyed being entertained by Timmy and his horsey, the one and only Anthony DiNozzo Junior, before Abby appeared to call them to dinner.

Talk quickly turned to the following week's Neighbourhood Party. Held each year on October 31st, it was a major event in the local community, timed specifically to allow children of certain ages to be home by bedtime, and meticulously planned out to become progressively scarier as the night went on and the participants got older.

"What are you going to be dressed up as, young Timothy?" Ducky enquired of Timmy, who glared at him and pointed to his mouth. "Oh. I am sorry, I should know better than to ask you such an important question when your mouth is full," Ducky apologised.

"Yes, you should, especially when it is as yummy as Abby's coleslaw!" Timmy asserted aggrievedly when his mouth was empty a few seconds later, but his grievance was quickly forgotten as he answered the question. "I am going as Sir Lancelot, just like that story you told me! Abby's going to make me a mask that fits over my _whole_ _head_, and Daddy's going to make me a sword, not a real one though, because I don't want to hurt anybody, and I'm going to wear my Superman cape because it's red, and I'm going to have _two _horsies," he waved his whole arm enthusiastically between his father and Tony, "so I can ride Tony when Daddy gets tired, and I can ride Daddy when Tony gets tired!"

"That sounds like a marvellous idea," Ducky praised, valiantly holding in a chortle as he ignored the glowers of the other two men. "And as the brave Sir Lancelot, have you chosen what colours your horsies are going to be?"

Timmy sucked on his cheek, a sure sign he was deep in thought. "I like black horsies best, so that can be Daddy, but I think white horsies run faster, so that can be Tony," he decided.

"Does that mean you like your Daddy better than you like me?" Tony batted his eyelashes at Timmy and poked his lower lip out in a mock pout.

"I have to, I live with him," Timmy stated gravely.

A ripple of laughter went around the table as Timmy started clearing the dinner plates so dessert could be served. When he came back empty-handed from the kitchen, he had a troubled look on his face.

"What is the matter?" Ducky asked him gently, thinking something had gone awry with the dishes.

"My Daddy horsey needs a pretty black mane and long black tail, and my Tony horsey needs a pretty white mane and long white tail. Can you do that, guys?" he inquired of his 'horsies' seriously.

"Of course they can," Ducky reassured him, much to the consternation of the other men. From there the rest of the night went smoothly, and finally the group dispersed, with everybody getting hugs and kisses from Timmy as he reminded them all that he would see them "on Saturday!".

"Hello, wee 'un!" Ducky paused in the hallway of the Gibbs home to admire Timmy's Sir Lancelot costume (currently consisting of light grey tights and a light grey t-shirt with dark grey wool sewn onto the front at semi-regular intervals, which drooped in curves that the Doctor surmised were supposed to represent chain mail). A long woollen tail of unfinished "chain mail" hung down Timmy's left leg, and trailed on the floor, nearly tripping the child up as he hopped up and down on the spot.

"Hi, Ducky! It's Saturday!" Timmy greeted him.

"Yes it is," Ducky affirmed. ""You look extremely dashing, young sir. Is Abby helping you with your costume?"

Timmy nodded enthusiastically. "She's just got to finish putting this stuff on the front, then I'll put on my cape and boots and hop on my horsey."

"Oh, yes, your horsies," the older man nodded sagely. "I've got something in my bag for them, so shall we go find them?"

"Is it ice cream?" Timmy asked excitedly while leading the way to where all the fun was happening.

Ducky surveyed the chaotic scene before him: In the absence of Sir Lancelot, Abby was busy adjusting the holes in the white horse mask amid cries of "Has anybody seen Timmy's socks?" and "Hey, that's my eyelid!", Gibbs was rear-end up foraging under the sofa, and Tony was dancing a poor imitation of an Irish jig while hiding his face in his hands and cursing his tormentor.

"No, it's something your horsies need even more than ice cream," Ducky said, turning back to Timmy so none of the adults would see the merriment in his eyes. He pulled out two table runners with tassels along the sides and two string mops without the handles. One of each item was white and one of each item was black.

"Manes and tails!" Timmy screeched in delight.

"Ow!" Gibbs rubbed his head where it had connected with the underside of the sofa. He sat up, holding the missing socks in one hand, and scowled at the visitor, who simply smiled and stared blandly back.

"Daddy! Tony! Now you will look like real horsies!" Timmy's eyes shone animatedly as he handed the black 'mane' and 'tail' to Dad and the white 'mane' and 'tail' to Tony.

Eventually, Sir Lancelot and his two horsies were ready to go, and it wasn't long before they were joined by none other than The Lady Of The Lake.

"Oh, wow, Abby! You're really pretty!" Tim enthused.

"Why, thank you, sweetie," Abby replied. "Are we all ready to go?"

"YES!" Tony, Gibbs, and Timmy crowed together, and the happy group went out into the cool fall air.

"Aren't you coming?" Timmy asked Ducky, when he realised the older man was heading toward his car, not the neighbour's house.

"No," replied the elderly gentleman with a gentle smile. "I have to get home and feed Perseus and Damocles."

"They're only dogs, they can wait. You have to come!" Timmy protested, pulling on Ducky's jacket.

"There will be plenty of other people there," Ducky tried to soothe the distraught boy. "Many of your friends will be there, and you will play fun games, and bring home a lot of candy to eat."

Timmy would not be appeased, however. "But it is your party! You have to come!"

Ducky was confused. "Why is it my party, Timothy?" he enquired.

Now it was Timmy's turn to look confused. The party was held every year, so surely Ducky knew it was for him? His eyes filled with tears as he realised he must have just spoilt a great surprise and now he was scared he would get into trouble.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything," he whispered. "Can we go back inside, please?" He moved toward the door, but his father stopped him and picked him up into gentle but firm arms.

"You're not in trouble," he reassured his son as he wiped the tears away. "But you know that at this party tonight, you and all your young friends are going to be there. They don't even know Ducky, so why would they come to a party for him?"

Timmy shrugged despondently.

Ducky came over and softly rubbed the boy's armour-clad arms. "It's just that I don't know why you think the Halloween Party is for me," Ducky pressed. "Can you explain that to me?"

"'Cause you're the Halloween Man!" was the unexpected answer.

"And how is that, young Timothy?" Ducky was more than willing to allow the pre-schooler to clarify himself, no matter how long it took. And the others just looked on curiously, waiting to hear their four-year-old's logic.

"'Cause that's what you always say!" Timmy declared. "Every time you see me, you say –"

"Hello, wee 'un!" the adults chorused joyfully and Timothy Gibbs, though still confused, joined in the glee, thankful he was obviously not in trouble, and finally ready to party the night away.


End file.
